LIFE
by Moonlight M3lody
Summary: She was too innocent when she voluntary got herself involved in the war. When she finally realized what she had done, it was all too late. One could never be both good human and soldier. Retrospective Tear.


She once had those eyes. Eyes of innocence, full of fear to death, especially if she was the one caused it. But that was long ago. Long, before, in her early memories before she actually knew anything about the war. When she was just an ordinary little girl like the rest of them in the world.

She remembered her times at the Qliphoth. She used to love singing, where she could pour her feelings in enchanting, magical tunes. There were usually little children gathered around her, begging her to sing more and more. Smiles appeared from her songs.

She would sit at Van's lap, letting him listen to her 'lullabies'. Then his brother would shove her hair affectionally, silently reminded her that he was his only blood relative other than their sickly grandfather, who was also delighted to hear her voice every night.

She loved her world, and she felt it loved her back.

But that was before she knew that her song was truly magical. It was not long until her talent was known by the entire city. They were, after all, city of the watchers. She was too young back then, and she remembered how Van would stand against some villagers that insisted she should be trained to use her power as early as possible. Seventh fonon was a power to support life, a symbol to rebirth and creation as opposite to another fonon thus placing her in solid position within the war. She would watch them big eyed, wondering what sort of game his brother was playing with the grown ups. Etched in her mind that one time when his brother, ending the shouting match, hugged her wholeheartedly, whispering, "I'll protect you."

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Some months after that, the war was getting intense. His brother was dispatched on his mission. Fonstones and Score, in her childish mind, were large chunks of bedtime stories his brother liked to tell before she fell asleep. She was amazed on how she could read about the world up there without even leaving her room. She learnt about towns and places that float above her, supported by branches of 'Sefirofth' tree. How a whole world could hang on tree branches filled her imaginations.

During that time she was already old enough to learn about the war, though she was too naive back then. She also learnt that she had the power needed in the Score's fulfillment. The quicker it fulfilled, the quicker his brother would be home.

Van sent her a sister when she expressed her will to learn how to fight, to be a soldier. She liked Major Legretta, whose eyes were sharper than any sword and words were colder than coldest ice, but at the same time brought her warmth she missed. She was lonely.

She learnt about strength. She learnt about courage. She learnt how to measure one's power and find a way to surpass it. But she didn't learn about the weight of a life.

At first, it was so easy. Legretta checked her affinity in weaponry, and found staff, dagger and spear to be most suitable to her, and she began to train herself to use them. Swing, parry, thrust. She mastered her training in record time. Sure, she always lost at sparring, but Legretta wasn't someone to be thought little of. Soon, she was the best in her city.

Along with her melee ability improvement, she began to work on her ability to draw fonons from the Fon belt and infuse its power in her songs. Due to her natural aptitude, though, it was lot easier than combat trainings; it was safe to say she didn't have as much difficulty.

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_Be strong. Don't be childish. You are a warrior, so act like one._

_One more time. True soldier doesn't frown at her weaknesses. _

_In fight, no mercy shall be given to your enemies._

Legretta's words were her daily meal, echoing in her head every day and night every day in a year. However, she didn't fully understand their meanings before. She didn't know the difference between sparring and true fighting.

No one lost their lives in sparring.

But in actual fight, the fight hasn't ended before a life is taken.

At her first mission in the Order, she was placed at the rear, acted only as a supportive member. Heal, step back, cast heal again. All she did was parrying and dodging and healing. It was just the beginning. She didn't actually pay attention to the occurring battle, focusing her sight to enemy's attacks. To do her best in her first battle. Oh, how naive she was. When they were on the winning hands and she didn't need to do much healing she looked frontward and for the first time in her life, terrified. Her fellow Oracle Knight stabbed the thug with ease, while his own body was bathed in crimson blood. That knight's sword glinted under the sunny sunlight, full of merriment and joy of victory. All three of her companions, they grinned under their helmet, no hint of hiding their satisfaction. They turned at her, smiling. "Good work, little girl." One of them patted her shoulder."That was impressing. The Colonel would be happy." She stood there, stone faced, unable to speak or move.

Mission accomplished.

She didn't even join the celebration thrown by her teammates. That night in her quarter she was still shocked, trying to rearrange her mind. She though of the thugs they killed earlier. They robbed Chesedonia's supply of food a week prior. That problem could be resolved without killing. At least it could be, in her ideal world. The thugs resisted, arming themselves with makeshift weapons. Wooden clubs and wrecked crow bar. They were so poor that she hated herself to feel sympathy at them. Concern to those whom she helped to kill. She remembered her mentor's words, and suddenly she was-in place of no better term-awakened. She was fearful at realization, finally succumbing to the fullest the true intent of words she held on to that time.

She was a soldier and no turn back.

No matter how she forced herself to think on other things, her mind kept disobey, and she found herself wondered about those people's family. Would they know their siblings, son, or even father, wouldn't come back again? Perhaps those people did the robbery because they also had someone to protect, a family to return to, a place called home. But she had taken it away. They were still young, maybe a year or two her senior, but they had no other chance to see sunlight arose, leading dawn, and marched back as twilight. No more.

She spent many hours looking into her hands. Pale white as always, no longer flawless like years before her training, but now stained in imaginary red. She didn't suffer any wound from the earlier battle. The front row did its job perfectly, but the thugs were originally no match for them. But the blood was there. Her dirtied hands were her inauguration to the army.

Her songs used to bring smile and happiness. Now its existence summoned misery and fear. They were there to serve the death more and more victims. And it wasn't her only time playing God of Death. There were many more past that day.

She shut herself after every mission, questioning the meaning of her existence. She was on the right side, she often comforted herself, but her human heart refused. Killing anyone on their way, who couldn't share their beliefs, was it right? She thought Yulia was aiming for peace. Could peace gained by killing last for eternity?

To make herself useful to another. That was her reason to be in the army. She was the one asking to join. She was the one begging to learn how to fight. It was too late to retaliate. Slowly but surely, in account of her change of heart, she learnt to kill her feelings. It was painful. It was disgusting. It was necessary. One couldn't be both good human and good soldier. She decided, in order to fulfill her promise to her grandfather, to kill her humanity instead.

Her eyes, her demeanor, her own self transformed. No longer Tear, a shy girl, new recruit of the army, but Tear, an invincible soldier that exist solely to accomplish orders and pursue vendetta. Van's treachery not long after proven to be a powerful catalyst to her transformation. While other members saw the significance, they didn't show much concern as the exact same thing happened to everyone in the army.

She no longer grieved upon her victims. She spared no more mercy. She was a soldier.

_To kill or to die._

She had forgotten the hesitation to fight. Every time that ache came she dismissed it without further thought. She understood what she should do, but deep in her heart, she didn't want another to feel what they felt. They were too deep in the abyss to be saved, but that was not a reason to drag another to the same abyss.

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She had forgotten almost everything that made her human, until he came. He was one of those she often hated and felt jealous at the same time. Born in upper class family, living in peace and ignorance of the rest of the world. He didn't suffer like she did. He was pompous and spoilt noble boy, but he was innocent and shouldn't be dragged further.

_I don't want to kill._

His words earlier sent her into tantrum she rarely possessed. It drilled into her mind, viciously digging layers of memories and hauled some last bit of her soft side she buried within her intention of revenge. It was too much for her.

"Do you think I want to kill? To rob someone's future that way? To stain my hands? This is war! I'm not doing it because I want!"

The shaking red haired boy before her silenced though his widened eyes were still as frightened as before. He threw his weapon to the floor in a muffled clanking sound.

She calmed herself down. She shouldn't be that hard. After all, he was living in comfort and safety until that day. He knew nothing of the world's cruelty. Hiding him behind her and the Colonel would be better for all of them. Her words gave him options to avoid or to join the battle, but she secretly hoped he was smarter to choose the better. He need not to suffer watching anymore person died on his blade, even if he swung it only in reflex of self defense. To bring him back to the capital, return him back to his original world, that was her mission. He didn't need to be caught up into her mission any longer. Albeit he was annoying, he clearly didn't deserve it. He was commoners, and better be left that way. She must end it before he was too involved.

When he set his decision to fight, she fought back her urge to shout at him in harsh words, telling him how idiot he was, that he wouldn't be able to come back after that. He would regret it later. But it was never leave her mouth. Her soldier self conquered her body, asking his affirmation. She hated that part of her, that she considered egoistical, maliciously pulled him from his cocoon to see by himself the truth of the world.

He was too innocent to understand what sort of hell he was getting into.

And she was too late to save him.

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Long time after that event, she still wished she forced him to stay still, to take no part in the battleground. She hated herself that after all she had suffered from and all she had been thinking of she pulled yet another person to the heart-tearing game. She thought he was still as clueless as before when he triggered the tragedy, and she secretly blamed half of the Akzeriuth's collapse to herself.

It wasn't until Luke came to her with determined eyes that she truly forgave herself. When she obviously doubted his resolution at first, his actions spoke louder than words. She was so ashamed that he found it first, not her. She was too drown in revenge and agony that she was too blind to see that they still could create better world, where one didn't need to suffer anymore. That they still have something to do.

Her hands couldn't be cleaned, but she could do something with them.

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The journey for the peace they pursued was colored in deaths. She realized they was no better, killing anyone on their way, but she wished and wished, that someday they could end it, and she could live without worrying about the weight of the sin she had committed.

If world like that would ever be existed, she wanted those hands to be part of it, to amend her regret to everyone she killed. To the future they could never see.

At least, that way, she wouldn't be weighted so much. It was egoist, but she was human after all.

The mere thought brought her to disgust, but at the same time, for the first time she was glad she could feel it.

She was human.

A/N: Ookaayy, I don't really remember why I wrote this piece at the first place, but I kinda liked it. Tales of the Abyss is the first RPG I ever see to put emphasize on their feelings on this matter. In any other RPGs the main character goes to kill everyone who oppose without further ado, no matter how naive or kind hearted he/she is. That is one of the many weaknesses of RPG, sadly, Comments are much appreciated!


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